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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/24147685">Three Nights</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/owlaholic68/pseuds/owlaholic68'>owlaholic68</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Dungeons &amp; Dragons (Roleplaying Game), Original Work</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>(I mean technically - the man barely remembers to eat!), Eating Disorders, Fire, Insomnia, M/M, Magic, Missing Scene, Obsessive Behavior, Pyromania</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-05-12</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-05-12</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-02 19:00:37</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>2,141</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/24147685</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/owlaholic68/pseuds/owlaholic68</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>A journey by riverboat, told from Jacques' late-night perspectives.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Jacques/James, Original Male Character/Original Male Character</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Three Nights</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>This riverboat is way too small.</p><p>Jacques paces but can’t go far. And there’s too many people on here in such tight quarters and there’s nowhere he can really be alone and it’s too loud-</p><p>He plays violin to drown out the incessant thoughts. Plays it until his fingers are numb and his ears are burning. He puts away the instrument and sits on the edge of the boat with his head resting on the railing and his arm draped over, fingers brushing the water.</p><p>It’s nighttime. Most people are asleep except for the midnight crew members who are all either glaring at him or trying to ignore him.</p><p>In the silence, Jacques’ stomach growls. He digs in the basket of food that James had packed until he finds the bundle with today’s date marked on it. A bit of guilt makes his stomach hurt more. James told him to eat all of this <em>before </em>sunset, preferably in multiple meals throughout the day.</p><p>Well, better late than never, right?</p><p>James packed lots of cheese for this day, worried that it wouldn’t last the whole journey. Along with the cheese is a wrapped assortment of nuts, dried fruits, and crackers.</p><p>Obviously designed to be a nice cheese platter, but Jacques just grabs handfuls of various things and shoves them into his mouth. He does try to mix things together to appreciate James’ refined Drow taste in cheese plates.</p><p>The rest of the food is more practical: a few slices of bread, a tin of spreadable cheese, a pair of hardboiled eggs, and a waterskin. Jacques crumbles the eggs and folds them up in the bread slices, then uses his fingers to spread the cheese all over the concoction and smash the whole thing into his mouth. He scrapes his fingertips along the edges and bottom of the tin to get all of the herbed cheese out, licking his fingers and the tin clean. Gulps down half of the waterskin.</p><p>For dessert, James allotted him two pieces of caramel taffy candy. Kept cold and dry to harden so it would last him even longer. Jacques gnaws on one piece and saves the other for later.</p><p>He looks out over the choppy river water and thinks of the similarly turbulent waters around his house. He would sometimes go out and sit on the cliffs. Stare out into the unforgiving ocean and know that he was feeling the same feelings that first made James start writing poetry. He itched to write himself but knew it would turn out as incomprehensible mush.</p><p>James.</p><p>Jacques hears water hitting water and looks up, thinking it’s raining. But no rain, just tears falling down his cheeks and hitting the waves.</p><p>Now that Jacques’ stomach is full, his chest aches instead with loneliness and some odd feeling of grief. He had tried to forget about this morning and had managed to hold it back until now.</p><p>This morning had been rough. The children had bid him a quick goodbye, trying to remain cheerful and coyly asking him to bring back presents from the Hub. Jacques had been able to meet their mood and tease them back.</p><p>But James. James had started out strong, lecturing Jacques about eating and sleeping and remembering to drink enough water. He had kissed Jacques farewell and then had broken down in tears. Clutching onto Jacques and sobbing, begging him to stay and not go on this murderous revenge mission.</p><p><em>I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry, </em>Jacques had said. He had resorted to casting a hefty <em>Calm Emotions </em>on James, knowing that it would fade when he got too far away and knowing that it would not completely take the hurt away. Nothing could take it away.</p><p>Jacques takes off his glasses and tucks them into the basket at his side. He folds his arms on the railing and rests his head on them. Steadies himself to cast a spell.</p><p>“I love you,” he starts out. Speaking in Elvish because <em>I love you </em>is only one word in Elvish and so this spell will last him longer. “James, darling, I’m sorry, you know I’m sorry and you know I had no other choice and – and you know that I love you and I would do <em>anything </em>for you, anything to make you happy and keep you safe and I just love you so much I can’t help it-”</p><p>The spell cuts off. Jacques waits for a response.</p><p>“I love you too,” James whispers into his mental ear. He sounds exhausted but not surprised – they’ve used the <em>Sending </em>spell before. “J-Jacques, I – I hope your journey is going well. I hope you’re doing okay.” He sighs. “Goodnight, dear. Go to sleep.”</p><p>“Yes, James,” Jacques whispers, though he knows the spell isn’t active anymore and James can’t hear him.</p><p>His stomach is full and he’s warm and the waves rocking the ship lull him to a deep sleep.</p><hr/><p>Everything hurts tonight.</p><p>It hurts to breathe, it hurts to feel his heart beat in his chest, it hurts to think about anything because every single one of Jacques’ thoughts turn to James and that fucking <em>hurts. </em></p><p>He screams with his violin. Strings wailing into the night. If he’s going to hurt, he wants everyone else on this boat to suffer too.</p><p>Jacques continues to play long after his fingers have started bleeding. It’s not like it’s making his pathetic lonely performance any worse, any less painful.</p><p>James would hate what he’s doing right now. James would hate the bloody music, the night disturbance.</p><p>That is enough to make Jacques stop playing and shove his violin back in its case. He wraps up his hands, taking three times as long as it should because he’s shaking so badly.</p><p><em>What’s wrong? </em>James would have asked if he were here. <em>You’re shaking, dear. Are you hungry? </em></p><p>Hungry. Is he?</p><p>Jacques spares a guilty glance towards his basket of food. He’s lightly snacked today, but he knows that would not be enough to satisfy James’ sweet concern.</p><p>But he’s not hungry. Jacques paces and pulls at his hair, resists the urge to tear out handfuls of it to chew on. He remembers that James packed some candy and pulls out a few sticks to occupy his teeth.</p><p>He stops pacing to stare off the side of the ship at the dark shore. Looks down into the waves and considers hopping off into the cold water, then decides against it. His hair is completely unmanageable when it gets wet.</p><p>The candy wakes up his appetite.</p><p>There is way too much food packed for today. Jacques isn’t <em>that </em>hungry. He frowns at the trio of meat-stuffed buns nestled together in soft cheesecloth.</p><p>“I’m sorry,” Jacques whispers to himself. “I’m sorry, James, I’m sorry – this is too much. I can’t, I can’t…”</p><p>He sighs. Takes one of the buns and wraps the others back up. James would be happy if he at least tried, right?</p><p>Jacques manages to eat another bun that night while he does some work on his automatic <em>Featherfall </em>spell. He always eats better when he’s distracted.</p><p>After getting too frustrated with his spell alterations, he summons a few small <em>Dancing Lights </em>orbs and writes several drafts of a letter to James, each one worse than the last. Another piece of candy helps him steady his thoughts enough to pause, take a few laps around the ship, and come back to tear up a few carrots and write a passably sane letter.</p><p>He doesn’t want James to worry. He doesn’t want James to be upset while he’s gone.</p><p>He’ll be back soon.</p><p>Jacques is up all night. No sleep due to a fit of paranoia and anxious writing that keeps him up until sunrise.</p><hr/><p>The excitement and exhaustion of using so much fire magic today actually makes Jacques <em>hungry. </em></p><p>He sits cross-legged on the bunk that he’s never used and devours an apple. For this day, James had packed some mushroom and meat skewers. Jacques frowns and concentrates, carefully warming them up with a handful of fire. He’s quite tired and he doesn’t really feel like burning down the whole ship tonight.</p><p>Though it would be gorgeous to see it burn…</p><p>“No, no,” he mutters to himself. “Bad, bad – you’re still on the ship…”</p><p>That thought stays with him for hours. He could have sworn that he got his fill of burning things today during the battle with those miserable river pirates, but an odd hunger still sits in his chest. He wants to see something crumble into ash, he wants to stare into hot flame and feel it warm his face.</p><p>He goes up on deck, leaving his companions behind down below.</p><p>He could burn a handerkchief – he’s got plenty where the embroidery turned out like shit. He could use a <em>Mage Hand </em>to grab a few stray tree branches floating in the river and burn those, watch the bark peel off and the leaves curl.</p><p>Jacques’ toes curl at the idea.</p><p>Maybe not, though. The crew would see it and worry and he’s not in the mood for their questions, already sick of their wary looks. It was hard today to wipe the gleeful grin from his face after the fight, the adrenaline still making his heart beat fast, the memory of that man screaming and writhing in pain right in front of him…</p><p>Fat. Burning fat and meat.</p><p>In his basket of food is some bacon. Jacques reheats one piece and sticks it in his mouth to eat, then dangles the other one off the side of the ship and lights it on fire.</p><p>He watches it curl and shrivel. Blackening until it starts turning to ash, black cinders that fall like snowflakes into the water and sizzle. It smells wonderful, too, and Jacques gnaws happily on his unburnt piece, eager now to burn more.</p><p>A few pieces of scrap paper join the pyre, then a handful of flour pilfered from the ship’s kitchens. That explodes in a wonderful puff that blows Jacques’ hair back and elicits a squeal of delighted laughter.</p><p>The crew is giving him a <em>wide </em>berth.</p><p>His energy is starting to wane. So many spells in one day, plus the exhaustion from not having slept last night. He yawns, packs up, and goes back down.</p><p>Passes out before he even reaches his bed, too tired. Just sits down on the rough floor, puts his back against the mast, and lets himself finally get some rest.</p><hr/><p>Jacques wakes just after midnight to a fierce ache in his back.</p><p>He stands, stretches, and paces barefoot. Glances down at his travelling companions.</p><p>Mugi the halfling. The one who for some godsforsaken reason followed his instructions the other day and actually trusted him enough to jump right off the mast. Good thing she hadn’t died – her silhouette reminds him of his children when Jacques is tired enough to be that borderline racist.</p><p>Telkin the tiefling. Fiery. Reminds him a bit of the kids, especially when he flicks his tail excitedly. But the whole paladin holier-than-thou thing kind of puts Jacques off. He does know how to party, though. So not too bad.</p><p>And Den. Den the half-orc. Could beat him to a pulp and probably should just for his attitude. She reminds him a bit of Lucy except that she fights cleaner.</p><p>Her sleek black hair is carelessly spread out on her pillow, a few strands falling off and nearly touching the floor. The ends are slightly split – she’s in need of a trim.</p><p>Jacques’ fingers snap and a flame itches on his palm. He pauses.</p><p>The problem is that James really likes Den. He told Jacques that when Jacques had asked him if this trio was annoying him, if he wanted Jacques to get rid of them. James had said no, said that he liked them. He liked Den’s humor a lot, he had said.</p><p><em>Don’t hurt them, </em>he hadn’t said, but Jacques had gotten his message anyways.</p><p>Jacques sighs. Snaps his fingers and extinguishes the flame. He doesn’t realize he’s just been standing over Den and staring for several minutes until she opens her eyes and glares confusedly.</p><p>How to explain that? <em>Oh yeah, I was kind of fantasizing about setting your hair on fire…</em></p><p>He sits back down on his bunk and starts quietly playing. Something calm and peaceful, a waltz that he’s composing for James based on an old folk song. He thinks about playing the song for James and smiles. James loves waltzes. He loves dancing.</p><p>Jacques thinks about dancing with him all through his conversation with Den. It keeps him smiling. James’ mother made him take dancing classes when he was a child and he’s still very good.</p><p>James and fire. His lover and his <em>love.</em></p><p>It’s what keeps him going. Nothing else matters.</p>
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